


Raindrops

by slaughtermom



Series: Second Times the Charm [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 08:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slaughtermom/pseuds/slaughtermom
Summary: ⌆ for a story about their family/home life





	Raindrops

_Benoit Du Lac was many things. A skilled carpenter however… not among them. This was never more evident than with Ferelden’s great summer storms and the symphony of sound it turned the little house they shared into. Wood buckets. Porcelain bowls. Even the delicate teacup (his wife’s prized possession) were pressed into service catching rain drops as they trickled through too loose straw and ill fitted shingles._

_The Maker’s music, that big man would say with a laugh as they read through story books of knights and ladies. His deep baritone blending with the pings and drops._

* * *

“Aveline…” Naked from the waist up and comfortable in it, Donnic stretched until fingers grazed the low beams of their Hightown house and his back cracked. He was sore. His choice of patrol and a good one with a Carta drop flushed back to the hole they crawled out of. “What are you doing love?”

Hair a little longer than she liked (and soon to be hacked off to a more manageable length), the captain of Kirkwall’s guard looked back over her shoulder through a curtain of ginger. One hand on a cup and saucer, the other easing open the window closest to their bed.

“It’s going to rain.” She replied simply.

Donnic arched a brow, lips pressing together as he pondered. Tentatively he tried again.

“You’re not… surely you don’t plan on drinking rain.”

Aveline snorted loudly. So close to the water, even the rain tasted of salt. Never mind what foulness it would gather from the roofs or Sundermount for that matter.

“I’d rather drink the swill served at the Hanged Man. It’s the sound I want. Reminds me of Ferelden.”

“Ah,” Bristled chin rested on tireless shoulder as he watched her slide the dish out and ease the window back down. A wonder his Aveline, unknown even with a year of marriage behind them. “You miss it love? Ferelden?”

“It will always be a part of me… but no, no this is home now. I’m content.”

“Good.” Donnic smiled. “Though I don’t mind rain or … dogs.”


End file.
